


Starboys and Stardust

by hisboywriter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Falling In Love, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:55:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: Lance finally found all of his voice and let it out in a petrified scream of, “What?!”The silence fell again, but it was the kind that would not benefit Lance, the kind that should weigh down on everyone and make them realize this was a shitty situation and could not possibly be real. No, it was the silence before the punchline of a joke. A bad one that Lance was at the end of.The silence cracked under Pidge’s laughter.“Congratulations, Lance. You and Keith are space married.”~(AKA I wanted yet another misadventure with blossoming Klance.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing Of Escorts and Espionage, I wanted to try another story with a little more Klance and a little less intensive plot, but still a little plot.
> 
> Thank you for giving this story a chance!

It began with a totally legit question.

“Am I not marriage material?”

Granted, Lance could (but wouldn’t) admit the time and place to throw the question out there could have been better. They were _technically_ in mid-mission in that yes, they were on a mission, but also Lance was incredibly underwhelmed by the current state of it (AKA bored out of his mind). Plus one thing he’d learned fast as a Paladin is that there were so few moments where the time and place was perfect to bring up anything. Legit, or not.

Behind him, Keith groaned with enough potency to represent the whole team. Rude.

“Seriously, Lance?”

Lance lifted his gaze away from the empty cobblestones below to peer over his shoulder. He and Keith had been back-to-back since they were put on watch duty on this little planet, just the two of them perched on a monument with Keith watching the west side of the city, and Lance the east.

Alone. 

With little space for comfort, Lance was perpetually on the verge of bumping into Keith’s back, brushing against his thigh, feeling the steady breaths Keith took behind him as his patience wore thin. With each varga passed (and _god_ , if using that Altean measurement of time wasn’t a sign Lance had been away from Earth too long), Lance was finding it easier to calculate just how close they were. 

Every calculation resulted in the same answer: _too close._

“Yes, _seriously_ ,” Lance said, wiggling forward and hating the way it cramped his long legs. “I think it’s time to face the fact that I just might be too charming.”

Keith’s attention strayed to him for a tick, just enough for Lance to see his eyes roll, then went back to observing his half of the city. “I can’t believe you’re talking about this.”

Lance looked away, gazing out toward the east, the city gone docile for the night. “I’m passing the time and had a revelation.”

Keith grunted. “I take it back. I can believe you’re talking about this.”

Lance huffed, gaze roaming over the city’s silhouette against the backdrop of a deep sky and purple terrain. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. The buildings were low, domed, and constructed of smooth stone. It was a far cry from some of the more ornate steeples and labyrinths they’d visited on other planets. Still, there had to be something said for the blue light that burned softly at night from within the carvings etched into the edifices. They trailed up buildings and arced over windows and doorways, some kind of rune science-stuff the Comarsians of this planet used.

From this far away, the designs looked like lacework to Lance.

It was kind of beautiful.

And of all people to share the view with, it was Keith.

Alone. Had Lance mentioned that already?

Lance sighed heavily and decided to keep talking because _quizsnack_ was he getting bored, and that was bad news because if _he_ was bored, Keith had to be nearing dangerous levels of restlessness. Already he shifted more often than Lance liked, bridging the barely existent gap between their bodies.

“Clearly,” he went on, ignoring Keith’s follow-up groan, “all the pretty aliens think I’m not capable of being tied down. I’ve thought about this. I’m a Paladin of Voltron, right? Always on the move, always surrounded by pretty faces. They can sense that and just don’t want to deal with the heartache.”

Keith growled. That should not have sounded pleasant. It kind of did? (Wait, no. Totally didn’t.)

“Lance.”

“No, I totally figured it out. That’s my problem.”

 **“** **_One_ ** **problem?”**

Lance jolted at Pidge’s interruption and glared as if the Green Paladin could see him. “Jesus, Pidge. Inconsiderate, much? What happened to ‘secured lines’.”

 **“They’re secured.”** Definitely a little cheeky-sounding. **“It’s check-in time.”**

“All clear,” Keith answered for them both. “Nothing on your end?”

**“Shiro and Hunk are still following their lead. We might have found a hideout. More importantly, what’s this problem you have again?”**

“Hey, I resent your tone,” Lance frowned, “it’s a real breakthrough.”

**“Wait. Is this about that chick that blew you off on that asteroid last week?”**

“No.”

**“The one that got all friendly with Keith?”**

“Friendly?” Keith repeated.

Now Lance did the groaning. “It’s _not._ None of you understand my dilemma. You’re not cursed with being as amazing as I am.”

“Lance, stop talking--”

“I will if _you_ stop fidgeting--”

“What? _You’re_ the one that-”

**“Guys.”**

Lance bit his tongue. Behind him, he heard Keith snort.

**“A little focus here. We can swap notes about your problems later, Lance.”**

Lance rolled his shoulders, shrugging off some of his ire. “It’s _one_ problem!”

**“Mission going on? Kidnappings? Remember?”**

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said. “We know.”

**“Try not to choke each other before this is over.”**

Lance rolled his eyes as Pidge signed off their intercommunication. He tried not to think that Keith was still so close to his back, radiating annoyance. Instead, Lance resumed scanning his side of the patrol, wondering why he was even able to notice just how many centimeters apart they were.

Beneath them, the path bridging the two halves of the city was still undisturbed. Fluorescent plants dotted the pathway branching from one part of the city to the other, their petals winking under the moons’ light whenever one peeked from behind the clouds, their stems swaying with each sigh of the breeze.

Lance struggled to envision heinous kidnappings taking place here of all places.

The monument they lurked on marked the halfway point from one city to the next, a dark stone that had long since taken to growing moss that pulsed brightly like a gem. Smaller monuments stood squat, and to the north of them stood a lone building awash with ribbons.

Romantic. Everything about this planet reeked of it.

Stealing another glance at Keith, Lance watched the way one of the moon’s soft pink glow trailed over the Red Paladin’s silhouette like the graze of a fingertip. Keith must have sensed the staring because before the moon tucked away into the clouds, his body jerked around and he looked at Lance. Damn his part-Galra senses.

“What?”

Lance blinked out of what he realized was a stupor. “Uh, nothing. I thought I saw something moving toward your three o’clock. Just a shadow.”

Keith narrowed his gaze, but turned back. Lance did the same immediately.

Jesus. Lance didn’t know what was worse: that he was staring at Keith during a mission, or that it wasn’t the first time in a very short period of time. Sure, he’d studied Keith a little more furtively after his Galra ancestry was confessed to the team. That had felt like ages ago, so there was little purpose to be looking at Keith and then feeling like he’d been doing something wrong when caught. Restlessness. That had to be it.

Lance hefted his gun to one shoulder and flexed his hand, cracked his neck.

“This is pointless,” Keith said, if a little under his breath. “We’re wasting our time here.”

“Well, something has been happening. They asked for help.”

“ _Nothing’s_ been happening.”

“People don’t just go missing.”

“Sometimes they do.”

Lance considered banging his head against the stone.

Maybe the exposure to the little planet was making for a bad cocktail. Yeah, that was probably it. Miniscule size of the planet aside, the aliens had a fierce respect for loyalty and a romantic expectation of their lives. Finding their mate was the culmination of their lifespans, where an entire week was devoted to celebrating a mated pair’s love.

Team Voltron had responded to the distress call in mid-week of one such revelry, twined ribbons fluttering from every building, petals of luscious flowers guiding a path through the city the couple would travel to each day’s event. Here, love was palpable, clinging to the air of the planet, sweet and cloying and seeping into Lance’s lungs.

So, yeah. Made sense it was all getting to him, probably in his airways and stuff. Not to say he was jealous of the aliens. Lance wasn’t looking for such intense commitment (right?), but it certainly played a somber tune for the current state of his lovelife.

Or lack thereof.

“We have to stop the Galra Empire,” Keith said, surprising Lance out of his thoughts. “Zarkon might be gone, but there’s a lot of work left.”

Lance resisted the urge to look at him and readjusted his position so it was easier to do avoid doing just that. “Yeah…? Not exactly breaking news.”

“We don’t have time for that kind of...stuff.”

Leave it to Keith to dilute the perplexities and power of love to a single, uninspiring word.

“Stuff?” Lance parroted.

Keith shrugged one shoulder, gesturing to the city dolled up in twine and colors, all in the name of love.

Lance was very tempted to look at Keith. More so than the urge he had to hit his head against something. “Are you telling me you don’t even _think_ about that kind of, uh, stuff?” Lance knew it was a treacherous question once he vocalized it; a brief image of Keith involved in... _stuff_ rushed at him. Okay. Urge to slam head against something was rising again.

“It’s a distraction,” Keith said.

Lance bit back a shudder and stared hard at the city as he got reign over his thoughts again. Play it cool. He cleared his throat and smirked. “Really? It’s a hell of a stress reliever.”

“Stress reliever?”

God, it was almost innocent the way the innuendo flew over Keith’s head and to a better place. Adorable, almost. Wait. Lance did not think of Keith as having any semblance of adorable-ness.

Had he?

“What I mean,” Lance said, “is they seem pretty happy. Strong.”

“Strong? They don’t even have a military.”

“Why am I not surprised you think strength only comes in the form of violence.” Lance lowered his gun and hummed. “These aliens. They really think they’re just half of something. When they find someone, they become...better, I guess.”

Keith made a noncommittal sound.

“Maybe the ones that went missing aren’t missing at all,” Keith said. “For all we know, they left on their own.”

Lance knew they hadn’t spent much time here. But save for the pall of worry that hung over the city since the rise in missing citizens, its people were happy, their expectations humble, their smiles sincere.

It was hard to imagine anyone like that just...leaving.  

“Where would they go?” Lance asked. “They aren’t exactly space explorers.”

“I’m just _saying._ Sometimes people,” Keith paused, “just, you know. Need to get away.”

“Jeez, it’s not like they are teenagers wanting to get out of a dull town, Keith.”

“Look, you’re the one that started with--” Keith trailed off, falling silent so fast that even Lance dropped the matter of the argument. Turning, Lance took in the way Keith held steady in his crouch, eyes keen behind his visor.

Lance crawled beside him. “What is it?”

Keith’s hand clung to the edge of the monument. He nodded. “I saw a bright light, like...lightning. Just for a second in the city.”

Lance hoisted his gun up, scooting forward. Beside him, Keith’s heat pushed against him, their breaths synching as they hunted the grounds between the smaller, thinner monuments. When Keith seized his forearm suddenly in alert, Lance inhaled sharply.

The mystery creature deviated off the path suddenly, taking a path littered with petals, straight for the building at the north. Outside of the shadows from the monuments, Lance saw the figure carried something over its shoulder.

Lance hissed. “It’s him, it-Keith!”

In a blink, Keith let go of Lance and hauled himself over the edge. Lance’s heart plummeted as he leaned over in time to see Keith tuck and roll to a safe landing. As if his body weren’t made of breakable parts.

“Keith!” Lance hissed. “Hold your horses!”

Scrambling down after him, Lance landed with less grace. Putting aside the blooming bruise on his hip, he dashed after Keith.

“Guys?” he tried to call out to the others. Static interrupted their communications. “Shit. That can’t be a good sign.”

The figure reached the building already, slipping inside, the doors heavy and moaning shut behind them. With Keith tearing his way toward it, Lance felt obligated to stay on his heels. He spared a glance back, but didn’t see any signs of the rest of their team.

Keith was faster, but Lance had the longer legs. He closed enough distance to snag the other’s arm before Keith barreled into the building and got them both killed. Lance had plenty more to do before dying, thank you very much. And Keith’s recklessness was sure as hell not going to be the impetus to any death upon Lance.

As he expected, Keith tensed, whirling almost violently and causing them both to stumble to a halt. Lance panted, glaring at his teammate before jerking his head toward the shut doors.

“You can’t just run in, Keith!” He wanted to yell, but settled for a hiss. The person inside might be able to hear.

Keith’s shoulders bunched. Lance tightened his hold and added, “Listen. They’re trapped in there. We know there’s no other way out.”

Keith didn’t relax, but he didn’t shove Lance away. Up close, even behind the visor, Lance noticed his cheeks dusted pink from the run. “They have someone. We can’t wait for the others."

It was a dismal thing to confess Keith was right. So Lance didn’t, and instead remembered he could stop touching Keith’s arm. Letting go quickly, Lance swallowed and mentally told himself to get his shit together.

A deep breath, a little mental nudge from Blue, and Lance could analyze the situation. “Okay. Yeah, I know. We don’t know what’s in there though.”

Keith opened his mouth, but Lance cut him off. “ _And_ this place is really sacred to the aliens here. This is where they do their big celebration thing, right?”

Keith frowned, looking at the building like he might still leap for it. He surprised Lance by exhaling hard and shifting his posture to something less violent. “Okay. Yeah. But we have to get in there.”

Lance nodded. He gestured and quietly, together, they ascended up the shallow steps littered with flower petals. As they approached the door, they dropped any pretense of verbal communication and gestured with their hands.

Lance’s breath held. He met Keith’s gaze.

One finger, a gesture. One nod.

Then pushed their weight into the door.

They burst through the room, weapons at the ready, Lance’s heart stiff in his throat. No one launched a surprise attack on them right away. Then ticks later, still nothing, and he could exhale. He kept his gun up, eyes taking quick sweeps of the area.

Opaque orbs burned with blue light, offering a soft illumination at best. Hopefully it would be enough to betray someone’s shadow.

Lance gestured to Keith: _Clear._

Keith returned the signal.

They resumed a tight position, their shoulders a breath’s span from brushing.

Lance peered upward, taking in everything he could in the low lighting. The ceiling vaulted high above them, rafts interlacing. Ribbons dangled long and low, the faint breeze from outside passing through them and silent. The high windows looped around the building’s perimeter, and were stained to prevent any of the moonlight from filtering through.

Keith sniffed. “It smells,” he whispered.

“Smells?”

Keith didn’t elaborate. He went forward.

Lance followed suit.

Then, from deep within the building, a sound echoed.

It didn’t sound like a voice, the tone distorted with the overlap of something sinister, something clear out of a monster’s throat.

Lance’s breath caught, heart thundering as he held still, aiming his weapon at the apse of the building. From the pits of the shadow, he saw it. A form materialized, heavy in cloak, as though their body was spit out straight from the shadows. At their feet, the crumpled body of an alien.

Keith’s body tensed, poised to leap onto the cloaked figure.

Its hand rose, engulfed in darkness. A crack of lightning ripped from its palm and held steady as a source of light.

Lance swore he’d seen that kind of power before, but his mind blanked when the creature pointed downward.

Lance dared a peek. His jaw slackened at the sight. “Whoa…”

Quickly, he took in the array that encompassed a third of the marble flooring. Two circles connected at one point, each one entangled with exquisite line work that connected stars to their circumference. Lance didn’t recognize the additional symbols that were drawn at specific points on each circle, but there was a wrongness to them, a red color that Lance didn’t think was paint.

Lance only then realized he stood at the epicenter of one circle. Keith in the other.

His head snapped back up. The creature’s face was shrouded, but the sound that curled from deep within sounded amused.

Lance’s skin rippled with a shiver. “Keith, move, _now!_ ”

But they couldn’t.

In one heartbeat, Lance felt the trap seize his bones, voice gone dry, his very blood frozen for a lifetime in that one instant.

He saw the creature fist its hand. Flexed them.

Then came everything else.

Lance didn’t know if he screamed, or if Keith screamed, or if the horrible sounds came from both of them as something opened. It burst free from inside Lance’s chest, somewhere so deep he didn’t know existed, and it meant the pain was that much more. Power crackled around them, light spearing through from the lines of the design at their feet, pain exploding as Lance felt like he was being flayed open, beyond his bones, right down from his very soul.

It opened him wide, clawed its way out, but if it was a tangible power, he couldn’t see anything through the blinding light. He thought beneath it all, he heard the pop of an explosion, thought the world shook as if the building was crashing down around them.

Then, the light winked out.

Lance didn’t know which one of them passed out first.

 

**-x-**

 

Lance woke up as he usually did, and usually did not. The usual bit was the gradual part, slipping from a deep sleep that meant good things for his skin. He hadn’t dreamt, the weight of his mind telling him he’d been out cold, in a rare dreamless sleep.

Then came the unusual bit, and it came hard, the ache that felt buried deep inside.

With gradualness, came pieces of memories. A different planet. That explained the bed beneath his body not feeling like the one back at the castle. The mission about some missing aliens. The night. A chase.

Lance inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open. The memories of the pain paralyzed him, as if expecting the agony to rain down on him again, or afraid of the lasting effects. Was he burnt? Was he broken? Had he been taken?

Where was Keith?

Voices shook him from his paralysis. He blinked and took in the reality around him, bracing for the worst.

The form closest to him cleared up, revealing Shiro. His lips were moving. Lance pushed out of his fog and picked up the sounds around him.

“...Lance...can you hear me?”

Lance blinked slower and stared up at their leader. “Shiro?”

Shiro nodded. “Good to see you awake.”

From around Shiro, Pidge popped their head out. “You were out for a while.”

“Comatose, practically!” The loud, warm sound could only be Hunk. Lance tilted his head and found his friend rushing to the other side of the bed, engulfing him in a hug. “You freaked us out, man!”

Lance grunted at the treatment, then found himself smiling. “Hunk, my ribs.”

“Oh, right. My bad,” Hunk said, lowering him back down with a grimace. “You just...really had us worried for a second.”

Lance dragged his gaze over each of them. “Huh. Was I really out that long or something?”

Shiro touched his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Lance frowned, warding off his confusion. How _did_ he feel? Curiously, he flexed his fingers. He could feel his toes, bare and cozy under a soft blanket. His body ached in a weird way, but he couldn’t feel anything else that might suggest he had lost a limb or an organ. There must have been a chill, because the only other thing Lance felt was a tingle radiating across his skin, barely, and originating somewhere deep inside him.

“I’m not dead?” Lance asked.

Shiro chuckled. It was a great sound. “You had us worried, but no, you’re not. You were almost comatose for a while.”

Details pricked at Lance’s memories. He tried to sit up, but Shiro guided him back down with a firm hand. “Wait, what happened? There was this guy, and he'd taken someone. And Keith. Jesus. Keith, is he--”

“Easy,” Shiro said.

“He got away,” Pidge offered, settling on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. They were all still in Paladin uniform, Lance realized. “We found you both out cold with him in there, but he escaped. Took off on a ship he must have had hidden. Jumped a wormhole even. The alien he took was knocked out, but okay.”

Lance rubbed his forehead. Ran off? He thought to pursue that line of question, but a bigger, heavier one pressed down on his chest. “And Keith?”

“Sleeping like you were, no injuries,” Pidge said. “That we could see.”

“Why...aren’t we in healing pods back at the castle?”

"About that," Hunk began, until Shiro shot him a look that quieted him.

Definitely weird. Lance quirked a brow. 

Shiro just gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ve been through a lot. Why don’t we get you some food first? We can update you then and you can tell us what you remember.” Lance must have made a face because Shiro said, “You woke up. I’m sure Keith will be up soon too.”

Lance relented, suddenly ravenous at the hint of food wafting this way. Allura came in at that time with the chief of the aliens, and a local alien that balanced a tray of brightly colored treats. Lance grinned and accepted Hunk’s help in sitting up.

“You are awake,” the chief said, all long limbs and big eyes. “Your bravery has been well noted, great Paladin. How do you fair?”

Lance smiled again. “A lot better now that I know I’m not dead or anything.” He gestured to Allura. “Came to feed me, Princess? I’m doing alright though. You don’t have to worry.”

Allura’s face, which had brightened at seeing Lance mobile, fell. She bypassed him entirely and looked at Shiro. “Keith’s still asleep, but I think he’ll wake soon. He’s shifting about. Red has remained calm since her initial attempt to seek him out.”

Lance took that for relatively good news. He could only imagine the havoc Red might have unleashed when he and Keith were...zapped? Whatever the heck that was.

He flashed a smile at the alien that draped the tray across his lap. Two more aliens stepped in, all long-limbed and with humble delight on their blue faces. Digging in, Lance listened to the result of their mission. Some kind of phenomena of light had occurred, and somehow interfering with their communications. At the same time, Hunk and Shiro had investigated their lead on the missing aliens, and found them.

Lance stopped eating then, relief flooding through him like renewed energy. 

“They’re okay?”

The chief, nodded. “The one you took pursuit after as well. They were afraid, but will endure.”

Lance flicked his gaze to the others in the room. “Were they...hurt?” 

“They struggle to remember what happened to them,” the chief said, ears drooping. They perked up once more. “But we are a resilient species. I believe had you not come to our aid, they would not have survived.”

Lance lowered his utensil. “So we still don’t know why they were taken?” 

“There is no definite answer,” Allura said, “however, the only new lead was the defamation of the sacred platform.”

Lance quirked a brow. “Defamation?”

“The church thing you, Keith, and one of their people were found,” Pidge said, twiddling their fingers as if redrawing the perfect circles. “It’s part of the ritual they do here. The markings were changed.” 

The chief tensed. “Indeed. It was a foul, crude act, altering the ritual that was prepared for our coupling.”

Lance pulled a face at the images a dirty word like coupling surfaced, and gently nudged aside his tray. The more he thought about what happened, the less appetite he had.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lance said. “Taking aliens and then just...messing up some ritual?”

Lance didn’t like the sound of that. He hesitated to voice the concern, given how pleased the aliens were now to have their loved ones returned. It was as if the dark chapter in their society was already closed for them.

So Lance bit his tongue and decided to poke around those thoughts at a later time.

“We’re still figuring out the why. Can you tell us what happened?” Shiro asked, gently.

Lance racked his brain, detailing what he could recall about the chain of events. He trailed on and off as he reached the pinnacle. “Then, I think the bad guy, he...did something.” He relived the moment and gasped. “He reminded me of those...what were they? Druids?”

“A Druid?” Allura frowned.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But then, the guy did something, and suddenly I was feeling…”

“Open?” the chief offered.

Lance snapped his fingers. “Yeah! It was like, everything was being ripped open, and it was also like being zapped and I felt something going out of me and in me.” He closed his mouth, processing those words. “I guess that sounds kind of funny. But I guess it failed to kill us.”

He spared his team a glance, unsure of what to make of their faces. They were avoiding his gaze, casting questioning looks at the chief. Hunk looked positively flummoxed, and given his history with Lance, a flummoxed Hunk was rarely in Lance’s favor.

“Okay...something wrong?” Lance asked.

The chief, unlike the others, beamed a smile. “Fascinating. The runes were glowing upon finding them, correct?”

Lance gestured at being ignored. “Hello? I’m talking here.”

Pidge looked back at Lance, eyebrows up. “Yeah, they were. We couldn’t pull them out of the circles right away.”

“The things on the ground?” Lance crossed his arms. “Actually...we were stuck in them before...whatever happened.”

The chief looked all the more pleased. “What marvelous news! Even an attempt of sabotage did not hinder the power of our runes.” They turned to the Princess, still beaming. “We must celebrate this union.”

Lance caught the way Allura’s eyes kind of bulged. Whatever protest she had, she stifled, looking ever the dignitary she was. “Oh, that is,” she peered at Lance for a heartbeat, “that should not be necessary.”

“I insist. You have returned our people, and have initiated a coupling.”

Lance had the feeling rejecting whatever the chief of the Comarsians was babbling out would be an insult. Still, he had the feeling he was missing a vital piece of information.

“Um...am I missing something here?” Lance asked. “We’re celebrating me not getting killed, is that it?”

The chief approached him in two long strides. Up close, the alien was a hell of a lot taller than Lance, as their species tended to be. Lance felt those bright eyes holding him in place. “The coupling, brave Paladin of Voltron. We will toast to it with great fervor.”

Lance stared at the chief, realizing he was the aforementioned Brave Paladin. “Uh...what, you mean me?”

His teammates fell strangely silent again, like in on a joke Lance was not privy to.

Hunk cleared his throat.

The chief smiled so warmly it felt wrong not to return it. Though Lance probably looked like he was wincing more than smiling. “Quite,” they said, clasping their long-fingered hands together. “We shall prepare celebrations once your mate has awakened.”

Lance blinked.

Back on Earth, each summer, Lance’s grandpa showed him his collection of watches. They were antiquated things, passed down from Lance’s great-great-great grandpa, constructed with gears and wheels and tiny mechanisms. To a kid like Lance, it was like looking into a new world, and he’d felt smaller in an awe kind of way, despite being bigger than any world a watch could hold.

Lance felt like that smallness now, without the awe-inspiring part, and his mind like the gears his grandpa loved to polish and keep in fine shape, lest they rust and grind to a halt. Only it took several ticks, several levels of gears turning for Lance to put two and two together to get _Keith is his mate?_

No.

“I, uh…” Lance’s tongue fumbled.

Way.

Shiro looked sympathetic, which wasn’t always a good thing. Paired with Hunk’s face, swaying between disbelief and hysteria, it was really not a good thing this time. Lance’s brain felt detached, like all of this was happening to someone else.

“We should prepare you with fine garments to partake in the ceremonies,” the chief went on rambling, “it is the least we can do.”

“And uh, maybe a big feast?” Hunk offered.

“Certainly!”

Lance’s eyes bulged. “Hunk!”

“What? I mean, we gotta eat…?”

Lance gawked at his teammates, mostly at Shiro who could probably make sense of this, explain that what Lance was thinking was a product of how out of it he still was.

“He’s not...is he...Keith and I…? Did something….?”

Shiro’s smile tightened. “They are adamant about their beliefs, Lance.”

That was no explanation at all. Lance’s stomach dropped.

“Yeah,” Hunk said, definitely on the verge of laughter, “so, it’s like you’re hitched in their eyes.”

Lance finally found all of his voice and let it out in a petrified scream of, “ _What?!_ ”

The silence fell again, but it was the kind that would not benefit Lance, the kind that should weigh down on everyone and make them realize this was a shitty situation and could not possibly be real. No, it was the silence before the punchline of a joke. A bad one that Lance was at the end of.

The silence cracked under Pidge’s laughter.

“Congratulations, Lance. You and Keith are _space married_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am reeaaally trying to not make my chapters crazy long. I really just want to indulge in all sorts of Klance moments with a sprinkle of mystery. I hope you enjoyed the first part and thank you for humoring the 'now we are linked' trope that I threw in right away.
> 
> If you have time to leave a comment or kudos, thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy moly thank you for the response everyone

 

Keith woke up married.

You know, for someone use to assessing his surroundings fast upon waking up, Keith hadn’t see that one coming.

By a long shot.

Keith was usually pretty good with long shots.

Waking up had started normally, with a slight start. Only he hadn’t felt the usual dregs of a nightmare in the corners of his mind. Rather, he felt as if he’d emerged from a deep sleep. That didn’t stop him from reaching out to feel his limbs like he always did, or sense if anyone was looming over him with ill intent. He faintly smelled something, and it heightened his memory. The sweet smell of the new planet, underlined with what might have been recently cooked food. 

He was on a bed. Not in the castle.

Keith inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering open. No imminent danger. Being on a strange bed prompted him to stay alert. There was a spike of hunger in him, though he hadn’t felt it ticks ago.

At that point, he picked up on someone else in the room. A Comarsian tensed, then sputtered something before rushing out. The door opened, letting in someone’s hollering like a new day’s chill.

Lance. Even in his shallow consciousness, Keith couldn’t mistake his voice.

He groaned, about to get up and slam the door shut himself when the alien returned, Shiro in tow.

“Shiro,” Keith said, gaze narrowing. “What’s going on?”

He made to rise until Shiro pushed him back down gently.

“Hold on there,” Shiro said. “We were hoping you’d wake up soon, but take it slow.”

Keith didn’t take things slow. He hopped onto the sleekest vehicle with a powerful engine and made dust, sand, and debris scatter in his wake.

Shiro understood the expression Keith pulled and sighed, gesturing to the alien. As the Comarsian stepped out, Shiro said, “We’ll update you on what happened, if you eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Keith’s stomach growled then. He flushed, damning the noise. He relented, and accepted the tray of food when the alien returned. He picked at his food at first, then devoured it as Shiro brought him up to speed on the events.

Keith listened, something weighted lifting off his chest when Shiro confirmed the missing aliens and Lance were unhurt. Then it was Keith's turn to talk.

Keith retold the pieces of his memory, the fluidity of the story hitting bumps only he reached the part he and Lance were trapped inside the intricate circles. He crossed his arm tighter, the more he struggled to articulate what had happened.

“It was...I don’t know,” Keith said, shrugging. “Weird.”

He pushed back into his memories, hearing Lance screaming, then of the sensation of being torn apart without breaking any skin or bone.

Keith flexed his hands, done with his food. He’d wolfed it down without considering the taste. 

“You were physically examined and no damage was found,” Shiro said, answering his unasked question. “Your memory matches Lance’s story. Though he thought the kidnapper looked like a Druid.”

"The magic looked similar. I guess. I don't know." Keith flicked his eyes up. “What was Lance yelling about?”

Of course, Shiro had left out one important detail.

Shiro hesitated, which piqued Keith’s attention.

“There’s been...a situation,” Shiro began.

He never finished.

Lance’s shout filtered through the hallway, penetrated through the stone walls, and right into Keith’s chest.

“KEITH AND I ARE _NOT_ MARRIED!”

Well.

Keith blinked at the door. “Uh…”

That was weird.

Keith considered how hard he’d been zapped to have misunderstood the words. Married? That wasn’t even funny as a joke.

Keith looked to Shiro. “What the hell was that?”

Yet, instead of finding the assurance that Lance had lost his marbles (zapped a bit too much too probably), Shiro held his gaze with trepidation. He was quiet. Not disputing Lance’s claim.

“He didn’t say...married, right?” Keith waited. Shiro forced a small smile, one of those reassuring ones. They usually accompanied news Keith didn’t want to hear.

“Shiro…?”

Shiro exhaled. “It’s in accordance with the Comarsian beliefs. They believe you’re bound.” He scratched his nose. “Uh, mated, by their terms.”

That made little sense. Scratch that. _No_ sense. Keith blinked at the shut door, reliving Lance’s outburst. The door gave him no clarification.

He replayed Shiro’s words.

Lance’s words.

Shiro’s words, again.

“ _What?!”_

Shiro broke it to him the way Shiro would: gentle and firm.

It was a lot to process, and Keith had processed a lot in his life. Abandonment, life beyond Earth’s galaxy, giant robot lions that defended the universe against a tyrannic race of aliens. Learning he was not all human.

So, because it was a lot (too much) to process, Keith didn’t.

He simply did not compute.

“Keith,” Shiro was saying, but it might as well have been a dream. A nightmare. “Look, it’s just for tonight. This doesn’t change who you are or your relationship with Lance--”

Keith rebooted. “Don’t use that word.”

“Huh?”

“Relationship.”

“Keith…”

Keith clutched the blankets. “This is a sick joke.” He said it so it was not a question.

Shiro told him it wasn’t.

Keith’s head twitched toward the door.

“Keith, don’t,” Shiro started, but Keith’s adrenaline spiked, and he leapt off the bed the opposite side from Shiro. He tore open the door, darting out with Shiro’s yelling trailing at his heels.

Something foreign pulled at Keith’s chest, guiding his route, oblivious and yet somehow not, that it was taking him right to Lance. He sprinted down the hall barefoot, the walls embedded with wards and runes passing by as blurs.

And then, when he rounded the corner, he almost collided right into his target.

“Whoa!” Lance leapt back, hand clutching his chest. Behind him, Keith barely acknowledged Hunk’s stumbling presence behind. 

Keith unconsciously touched his own chest, heart thundering, breath heaving, skin tingling as their eyes locked.

For an infinite second, Keith felt trapped in Lance’s pretty blue eyes. A shudder tickled through him. Keith could have sworn Lance felt it too, because the Blue Paladin inhaled sharply.

Hunk cleared his throat. “Uh…?”

Lance snapped out of it first, and his face contorted back into a sneer. He pointed at Keith accusingly, and inhaled deeply. “You!”

Keith blinked at him. He’d never seen Lance get that shade of red in the face. Keith should have noticed that more instead of the half-shamble that was Lance’s hair. It was testament how furious Lance was that he’d sprung out of the room with less than a perfect do (that’s what Lance called it, right?).

Although, it kind of looked just fine like that. Keith had a sudden, mad urge to flick those stray tendrils.

That was until Lance opened his mouth again.

“This is _all_ your goddamn _fault!_ ”

Keith’s hackles rose. He rushed forward, seizing Lance by the fabric of the robe he was wearing. Lance met him halfway, snatching fistfulls of Keith’s robes, and they both shook the other with each shout.

“ _My_ fault?!”

“If you hadn’t gone barging in guns blazing like you always did--”

“He was going to get away!” Keith would be damned if he’d let Lance get away with barking at him. The anger didn’t even feel to belong all to Keith, surging through his veins and pushing his voice out in a deep yell that made Lance shout that much louder.

“He _did_ get away, and now…!”

A set of hands pried them apart with one, fluid pull. Keith flailed as he was hauled away, chucked by Allura’s strength and held in place by Shiro’s hand landing on his shoulder. 

“Enough of this,” Allura snapped, stabbing them with a sharp look. Her gaze settled on Hunk. “You were supposed to be watching Lance.”

Hunk cringed. “Hey, I tried. He’s  _fast_ , okay?”

Lance ignored Allura’s hand braced against his chest, his yells coming out part-stutter now. “If you...just had listened...and then...they…!”

“Enough.” Shiro stood directly between their bodies to block out each other’s view. “This is not the time nor the place. You’re forgetting where we are.”

“I was speaking to the chief when I heard your squabbling,” Allura said. “Do you realize how incredibly disrespectful you are being? What if they witnessed this behavior for their own eyes? You two are paladins. _Act_ like it.”

Keith fisted his hands, nails carving into his skin. His protest died at the look Shiro bore down on them. To Keith’s surprise, instead of ordering them back to their rooms, Shiro touched each of their backs and nudged them an inch closer.

Something thrummed inside Keith at the closer proximity.

“Resolve this the right way,” Shiro said, stepping back. “Allura and I will to talk to the chief.”

Keith felt everything in him tighten as they left him with Lance, Hunk casting them a worried look before he rounded out of sight. The air thickened around Keith. He and Lance met gazes again, their chests still heaving.

Shit.

Double shit.

No, infinity shit.

Lance blinked, and Keith could look away. He crossed his arms hard, glowering at the runes carved into the walls of this home. Wards, maybe, but Keith didn’t like the idea of touching them.

“You’ve ruined my complexion too, you know,” Lance said, startling Keith. He peeked over and noticed Lance was avoiding his gaze as much as he avoided Lance’s.

“What?”

“I got a bruise thanks to you.” Lance gestured to his hip, and for a mad, illogical moment, Keith thought Lance was about to expose the bruise for his eyes to see.

Keith swallowed hard because in that mad, illogical moment, he wanted to see it.

Patience. Focus. Yielding. Right.

“Look,” Keith dragged a hand over his face and decided _not_ to think on either of Lance’s hips, bruised or not. “Shiro told me what...happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“...And what the Comarsians are saying about us.”

Lance palmed his face. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“It’s not like it means anything.”

Lance finally spared him a look again. He eyed Keith suspiciously before exhaling more dramatically than Keith thought necessary. Or maybe not. It wasn’t an ideal situation.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Lance said, sinking back against the wall. He scrubbed his arms. “Look, we just have to put up with the party and then we’re gone. Nothing’s changed, even if this is all your fault.”

“It’s not my--” Keith forced his gaze away. He inhaled deeply, knocking his knuckles against the wall. Not enough to qualify as a punch, but to relieve some tension building under his skin.

Lance huffed. “Whatever. It’s just a party after all. I'm good at parties."

Keith didn’t know what prompted him to admit it, but the words pushed out of his mouth. “I was the one that thought it was a waste of time coming here.” It felt wrong he should partaking in any celebrations.

Lance didn’t say anything right away to that. The ripple in Keith’s chest returned, trembling with something like hesitation. The silence almost made him flinch. Why did he want to reach out to Lance?

Then, Lance said, “Forget it, Keith. The only person whose fault this really is, is that asshat that thinks he’ll get away.”

Keith met his gaze, felt the ripple smooth into something tranquil. “Asshat?”

“Yeah, total asshat.”

Keith’s lip twitched. “I guess he is.” He held Lance’s eyes, until Lance got a rush of pink into his skin. The Blue Paladin turned away, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, well, we’ll find him eventually. We’re the Paladins of Voltron, after all.” Lance crossed his arms and shrugged both shoulders, the robes suddenly giving away just how broad Lance was across the chest.

Keith considered the thickness of the fabric stretched over Lance’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he breathed.

With the silence pushing down on them again, Keith tuned into how close they stood. Each centimeter apart from Lance felt like a centimeter thicker of a vice around his heart.

Side effects. It had to be, and would explain the tingling sensation crawling down Keith’s skin as if out in the cold.

Lance sighed, the sound chasing the tingles down Keith’s back.

“What?” asked Keith, not needing more of a reason to linger around Lance.

“Just thinking how tragic it’ll be. All those babes out there thinking I’m taken? It’ll break hearts, man.”

Keith’s stomach twisted. It was all the incentive to shove away and start marching back toward his room.

“Hey!” Lance called after him, and oh how Keith could have wandered back. “What’s with the attitude?”

“Guess you solved that problem,” Keith shot over his shoulder.

Lance gawked after him. “What problem?”

“Everyone will see just how marriage material you are after all.”

 

**-x-**

 

In the end, Keith had to confront none of this was a joke.

He would have taken it as a bad dream. Delusion brought upon a side effect. Anything, really at this point. Keith had tried to will it to be just that. With instructions to rest, Keith had shut his eyes not in compliance, but as a last resort to blink away the dream and emerge back to reality.

Keith never blinked so many times in his life.

It was unfair, how little time he had to try and make sense of it all: someone knocked on the door.

And because that someone was Pidge, they poked their head in without waiting a response.

“Hey,” Pidge said. “There’s the other half of the happy couple.”

Keith sat up instantly. “Not funny.”

Pidge stepped inside, scanning the room with a hum. They wore the robes traditional to the Comarsians, modest in color and style. In their arms they held a lighter set of robes.

“Lance has stopped moping if that helps.”

It did not. Keith studied his hands. “Do I look different?”

Pidge cocked their head. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Keith, realizing what a ridiculous question it had been. “I just...feel weird still. Do we know what that thing even...did? To me and Lance?”

“We examined your bodies. Nothing wrong there. Though the chief was asking Lance earlier if he could read your mind.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Pidge gave a short laugh. “Cool, huh? The Comarsians gain a telepathic ability with their mate when they do the ritual. It doesn’t seem to have that effect on you two though. Maybe because you’re not Comarsians? Anyway, it was safer not to put you in the cryopods until we make sure nothing was, you know, funky with you too.”

Reading Lance’s thoughts sounded like treading into filthy territory. Despite himself, Keith glanced up, fixating on noise, as if that’s how telepathy worked.

“No,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think I can read his mind.”

“Other than that,” Pidge went on, “they went on about your bond. They think it might just take a while to take effect. I don’t think Allura wanted to convince them otherwise, given what a big deal it is.”

Of course. Keith considered bashing his fist into the wall. He focused on the fabric bundled in Pidge’s arms. “What are those for?”

Pidge smiled, lifting up the robes before tossing them to Keith. The shade of blue that matched the pulsing light of the city runes, etched with a familiar pattern along the sleeves and hem. Keith picked at them, but found nothing magical in them.

Keith glared up. Pidge, impervious to his glares, frowned at him and tapped their foot impatiently.

With little else to wear (his Red Paladin armor out of sight), Keith gradually yanked off his shirt. He saw Pidge settle on the corner of the bed meanwhile, no qualms about Keith changing with the modesty everyone knew Keith lacked

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Don’t sound ungrateful. Came to pick you up for the party,” Pidge said. “I was still here looking up some stuff.”

Keith paused. “What kind of stuff?”

“Coran said the castle caught an image of the ship that jumped the wormhole. Gave it to me to do some digging.”

That was something Keith could get on board with. “Wait, you think we can track him down? Was it on a Galra vessel, was-”

“Keith, chill. We’re working on it. Coran’s doing some digging too.” Pidge smiled widely. “I’ve also been learning about their runes.”

Keith scowled at the mentioning of those things. He shoved his arm into a sleeve. “What about them?”

“They’re fascinating, of course! It’s just as I suspected, all coding. But it’s not just coding alone, there’s some serious advances in science, chemical reactions and--”

“Pidge.”

Pidge deflated. Sighing, they dropped their chin into their hand. Keith figured, in that instant, they had the common ground of having better things to do than go to a party.

“So?” Keith pressed. “Did you find anything?”

“Hm? Oh, I’ll find something.” Pidge’s mood lifted as they took in Keith in his new attire. They smirked, but Keith didn’t know why.

“Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Nothing.” Pidge snapped their fingers. “Hey, Lance said that guy you guys faced looked like a Druid?”

Keith held his breath. “I...yeah, maybe The magic anyway. He didn’t have that creepy mask though.”

“Weird.”

Keith didn’t know what part was weirder, but everything was a little weird. “Shiro said the aliens don’t remember what happened and no one can tell what he was after.”

Pidge hummed, gazing up, like there was a mathematical problem hovering there Keith couldn’t see. Knowing the universe, there probably was. “Somehow, I don’t think he was trying to kill you guys.”

Keith scratched his chest, feeling a bizarre ache. “That doesn’t sound better.”

“It usually doesn’t.”

Keith hated that he asked this next: “Where’s Lance?”

“Already ahead of you.”

Keith felt ruffled at the notion Lance beat him. Not that he had any inclination to attend the damn thing, but he didn’t want to be after Lance.

Pidge grinned, as if sensing his dilemma. “Let’s hit it. You know, metaphorically.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“Not really, but maybe I can learn more about their runes.”

Crossing his arms in a weak attempt to stop get some control, Keith said, “We shouldn’t be celebrating anything. That guy got away. We failed. This,” Keith flicked his hand, “is stupid.”

“It’s kind of hilarious, actually.”

“I’m _not_...with Lance....”

Pidge’s smile dropped. “This is a really important thing to the Comarsians. They are an extremely pacifist species, and you want to blow off their celebration after all they’ve been through? That sounds like something an asshole would do.” Pidge narrowed their eyes. “You’re not an asshole, are you, Keith?”

Keith shrunk into his robes.

Pidge hopped off the bed. “Listen, you made it out alive. We rescued the missing aliens. Be a little goddamn grateful about that. Pay attention more to the bright side.”

“I do pay attention.”

“Yeah,” Pidge snorted, hopping off the bed. “Look where that got you.”

Keith groaned, rubbing at his chest again. The pull was stronger now, making his feet itch to walk.

Pidge lightly bumped his arm. “Okay?”

Keith took in a deep breath. Patience. He exhaled it all out, hard.

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

Only it was hardly okay. The further they drifted from the home, the more the not-okayness compounded. Keith was feeling the taut feeling in him again, shrinking the deeper they stepped into the city, its air sweet, its ribbons muted arrays of colors, runes pulsing with a light that illuminated the cobblestones beneath their feet and the speckle of flower petals. Keith left the gawking of the runes to Pidge, having had enough experience with them to last him the rest of his life.

Comarsians recognized them on their way out, as if they had been waiting for them. With a gesture of their long limbs, they guided them toward the revelry with those happy smiles.

Keith didn’t pretend he could understand how they could be so happy.

“Try to cheer up,” Pidge said, elbowing him. “This is practically your wedding reception.”

"Pidge.”

“Oh, look there’s your other half.” Pidge ignored Keith’s plight, waving at the team as they approached. Low tables lined the cobblestones, cushions propped up as seats. There were two spots free between Lance and Shiro.

Lance did not look at him. Shiro did, and nodded. "You look better. Have a seat and try to relax."

"Okay..." Keith moved to sit beside him--

Pidge immediately plopped down beside Shiro.

Keith begrudgingly lowered down beside Lance, who stopped chatting up some alien across from him to spare Keith a look. Lance held up a good face for the aliens, acting as though they weren’t fresh from an argument.

Something hummed inside Keith, and the pulling sensation shrunk down inside him, still there, but dormant, like a rope no longer pulled taut and now coiled. It was at odds with the ire he still held over Lance.

“Uh.” It wasn’t the first thing he had planned to say after reuniting. The other paladin was in matching robes, the color scheme complementing him in a way that had Keith take him in slowly.

Keith had never dismissed Lance as unattractive, and it wasn’t just once Keith had caught himself watching the way Lance did his laps in the Altean pool, or pamper his hair in the showers. Keith was a paladin though. They all were. Even on his life on Earth, he’d long since snuffed out the flicker of attraction toward another man before it could grow.

Lance was staring back at him, his own gaze dipping from Keith’s head to his slippered feet.

All of this was definitely weird.

Or stupid. That’s what he’d told Pidge, right?

Somehow, looking at Lance dressed the way he was, seeing him not in a bout of anger but healthy and alive, Keith wasn’t so sure in that heartbeat.

The Comarsian that had been talking to Lance exclaimed at seeing Keith, startling them both of another stupor. They reached into their robes and extracted a small box, presenting it at their table.

“To a many mated seasons.”

Keith began a protest until Pidge pinched him. None too gently.

Of course Lance, self-proclaimed smooth operator (what was he even operation, Keith wondered?), played it off like it didn’t fry his nerves like it did Keith. The gift was accepted and revealed to be a flower. Yellow and vibrant, so much so it almost seemed obscene against the backdrop of the restrained color palette of the planet.

“It’s beautiful,” Lance said, plucking the plant. “Rather like you.”

The alien smiled, lowering their long-lashed eyes.

“Should you really be saying that stuff,” Keith said in a hiss, “when we’re supposed to be…”

Lance didn’t look at him as he fixated the flower behind one of his ears with a hum. He winked at the alien, who chuckled and bowed their head upon leaving.

“They don’t seem to mind,” Lance said. “Why, do _you_?”

Keith could not occupy himself with his food fast enough when it arrived.

Even if the celebration proved to be about as humble as the rest of the planet, Keith felt anything but at ease. He wanted to count himself lucky it was underwhelming, from the melodic steady tune of music to the moderate amount of laughter.

If only the Comarsians would stop wishing them a many mated seasons. Cringy-word choice aside, Keith felt his team enabled the gift-giving, like some kind of conspiracy. One by one, small tokens were offered, many of which Keith had no clue if they symbolized something, but felt reluctant to willingly accept any into his hand all the same.

To a many mated season was becoming the night’s mantra.

Keith downed the drink he had, not surprised it had absolutely no kick to it. Not so much as a nudge to the parts of his brain that needed the kick. Or nudge. Or numbing. 

The temperature of the planet was a consistent cool, making the heat between them that much more palpable. There was subtle music playing, some kind of wind instruments, that hopefully blew away the sound of Keith’s heart. But no one demanded he and Lance hold hands, or...anything else.

“A tonic,” a Comarsian said, palming over a thin vile, “for heightened pleasure.”

Keith refused to let anyone ask what kind of pleasure the Comarsian meant. Coran made an impressed sound. Keith was incredibly grateful he was not next to the Altean, who seemed to be going on about the various uses of said tonic.

So went on the gift-giving, a straight-up procession of embarrassment. Keith should have figured it could have been worse. They could have been obligated to touch, to dance. Lance was all for the dancing, and none of it with Keith. The Comarsians had a polite, distant way of dancing, but Lance made it look like he could have the time of his life following the steps. Like he could take any movements and made it look the way he did. Which should have been dumb.

It wasn't.

Keith stewed on his spot, stuck with accepting gifts, stuck with listening to his team go along with all of this. He pointedly ignored their conversations, sweeping his gaze around. He could spot the missing aliens in the way their loved ones looked upon them with such hope and relief. Keith felt his ire soften.

More than once, he squinted at Lance’s head, considering what Pidge had said. Was Lance thinking about the Comarsian he danced with? Keith stopped from asking follow-up questions. It proved he couldn’t cross the barrier into Lance’s mind.

It was a small relief. Keith seized it and rode it out as long as the night would last.

Keith struggled to pay attention to the aliens that approached him directly with gifts. His mind weighed heavy with the results of their mission, and his focus continuously strayed to Lance. Keith had the gall to say something to him, but lacked the mental energy.

Surviving the night eclipsed all else.

“Enjoying the view?”

Keith startled, turning to Pidge beside him. “Huh? Oh, uh...yeah. Sure. The strings and stuff are...pretty. I guess.”

Pidge smirked. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

Keith stared at Pidge.

Then, Pidge rolled their eyes. “Hopeless. Nevermind, Keith.”

Keith returned his attention on the pretty Comarsian talking to Lance. His view became obstructed by another alien, this time the chief. Keith straightened slightly.

“I’ve come to offer my gift as well, if I may,” the chief said.

By now their table was hearty not with the feast, but trinkets. Wedding presents, Hunk said from his side of the table. It was a good thing he hadn’t been sitting next to Keith.

“Oh.” Keith swallowed. “You don’t have to.”

“It is tradition,” the chief said.

Lance returned then, beautifully flushed from his endeavors, his smile big. Keith hated how warm his energy felt beside him, how Lance could cast away his shame and grievances and seize the moment. “Yeah, Keith,” Lance said, taking up his refilled drink. “Don’t be rude. Ignore him. He's just naturally like that.”

Keith considered turning Lance’s red to blue with the mere pressure of his hand.

The chief nodded with understanding, and Keith could not tell if Lance was relishing in the attention because it was just that, or because it aggravated Keith. Maybe it was a cocktail of both. Definitely both.

The chief extended a long hand, presenting the gift directly to Keith. A carving the length of Keith's pinky, plump and smooth.

He glanced at the others, finding them all judging him with a weighted look.

Keith slowly took the carving into his hand, feeling the stone. It was good craftsmanship, little grooves having been carved with a delicate, steady hand.

“Uh, thanks,” Keith said. “It’s...really well made, actually.”

The chief beamed. “Place it beneath your hips on the nights of full moons.”

Keith doubted he would do such a thing. “Uh, yeah. Sure. What for, again?”

“It will bless your womb with many children.”

Lance choked on his drink.

Somewhere, in another dimension, was a Keith that was blissfully unaware of the trauma happening to this particular Keith, in this dimension, where he must have heard wrong because he’d just been instructed how to bear...children?

_Lance’s children?_

Lance continued to choke.

Someone exploded into laughter.

Keith mentally withdrew. Bad dream. Sick joke.

He still held the carving. As if it burned his skin, he made to drop it when Pidge’s hand smacked his down onto his lap before he could. Keith made to shout, but Pidge’s other hand slapped across his mouth.

“Oh, God, uh, thank you so much, Chief, Sir. He’s so moved by your gift he can’t talk,” Pidge was saying between chortles, and the chief only looked confused. Keith was almost furious the alien had any audacity to be confused.

Like, were they shitting him?

Womb.

Womb.

Womb.

Keith could go a lifetime without hearing that word again.

He couldn’t hear much else over his roaring blood, but Allura had the grace to lure the chief over to her side. As Keith came back to reality (again), he could pick out snarky comments about the travesty of what just happened.

Keith pried Pidge’s hand off, whipping his head toward Shiro. “What the fu-”

“Keith.” Shiro’s frown was severe, and only there long enough for Keith to get the point. “It’s just a gift.”

Keith jerked his head to Lance, who was heaving, Hunk’s hand patting his back. “Why did they give this,” he shoved the carving in Lance’s face, “to _me_?”

There was only an instant Keith had any satisfaction in Lance’s stunned expression. Then, just as quickly, it smoothed over into a perfectly quirked brow and tilted smile like he hadn’t been having a coughing fit ticks ago. Lance cleared his throat, straightening.

“Well, I mean, it’s kind of obvious.”

“ _What’s_ obvious?”

“I mean even they can tell how this thing would work,” Lance said, gesturing to Keith then himself, “if it was a thing.”

Keith clenched his hand around the carving because his fist was a heartbeat from smashing into the stone table. “There. Is. No. Thing.”

A look crossed Lance's features. Keith didn't understand it, but it was wiped clean off his face a moment later. “Well, duh. I know that.”

Keith’s shoulders bunched, nerves tense.

Shiro’s voice cut through his pounding heart. “ _Keith_.”

Then, Allura’s. “ _Lance_.”

Keith was sure he was about to implode. He’d become a scientific marvel, the half-human who had self-imploded, collapsed into himself from utter disgrace and humiliation.

Really, it was nothing short a miracle that he survived the rest of the night. Keith didn’t believe in miracles. He retreated into himself, counted, thought back to his cabin, did not speak to Lance, did everything he could to yield all the patience he needed to prove he could handle the situation. He even reached out to his link to Red, who certainly was not giving any kinds of care of his misery. He supposed she wouldn't count his self-imploding as a form of emergency. Still.

The night had been worse than a battlefield. At least there, Keith knew himself and how to maneuver. Where he could go during a party, least one he was mere centimeters away from Lance.

They couldn’t get the hell out of there fast enough. There was nothing else grounding them there. The kidnapper was gone, the aliens safe. They spared parting words with the Comarsians, Shiro, Allura, and Coran doing the bulk of the talking for clear reasons. Keith, at the looks he got and nudge from Shiro, made sure his tone wasn’t too rough when he had to say a few words too.

Keith stepped back into the castle at last. He could breathe with a little more easier.

It wasn’t like going back to his cabin, but it offered a modicum of that feeling of relief. At least here, the familiarity would put behind him the mess of this mission, of what these Comarsians would forever see him and Lance as.

He hadn’t said a word to Lance since the last outburst, and didn’t want to, not now. Still an impulse betrayed him and made him seek out Lance furtively. The Blue Paladin held a collection gifts, following Coran to do who knew what with them. Keith zeroed in on the fertility carving perched atop the stack.

As if sensing Keith’s gaze, Lance glanced back. He still had the damn flower tucked behind his ear.

Keith tore his eyes away before he went against the urge to keep distance between them. At least until they were away from this planet, until he’d beaten normalcy back into his bones on the training deck.

He ran to it.

Shiro caught him along the way. He tried not to look annoyed Shiro would know where to find him.

"Hey. I know it was tough for you back there, but you did it. The Comarsians were very happy. You helped make them happy."

Keith shrugged, pointedly avoiding Shiro's eyes. Scratched his chest. Then crossed his arms.

“Maybe you really should rest,” Shiro added, following Keith's gaze to the training deck's doors. “We still don’t know if there are any effects of what happened to you two. You shouldn’t push it.”

“I’m not.” Keith peered back out the glass of the castle, watching the planet of Comars shrink. The depths of space couldn’t swallow them fast enough. “I just need a few rounds. Coran can probe all he wants later.” Not that Keith would let him, but he was willing to consider the option if he could just fight out some of his frustration-ire-everything.

Shiro relented. “Alright,” he said, stepping close to squeeze Keith’s shoulder. “You did well, Keith.”

But he could have done better. Keith ducked his head, mumbling a reply before he hurried off to the one place he could find solace light years away from his desert shack. Keith shucked off the robes and dragged on the comfort of his own clothing.

He stepped onto the training deck and prompted a high level gladiator to initiate combat with him. Keith didn’t want a leisure fight tonight. He wanted nothing in his mind about a potential Druid causing mayhem, of thoughts to his past, or anything resembling Lance and his laugh or smile.

Only in battle, did he find a semblance of clarity. Hunk found it in baking, Keith happened to find it in fights.

“Level three,” he called out.

The gladiator hounded him. Keith parried, stepping into a rhythm that sucked up all his concentration. He knew he was going past a few rounds, into the time Allura suggested should be lights out. Keith wasn't feeling the weariness in his body yet though.

He could sleep later.

The gladiator came for him again.

Then, it hit him.

Like a string pulled taut, Keith’s body froze. For a moment, he thought the gladiator got him good, enough to paralyze him. But the tremor that coursed through him was not from the aftermath of a blow.

Heat flooded through his body, pooling in one specific, very inappropriate area during a fight.

What the  _shit!_

Keith heard the air cut a tick too late. He gasped, head jerking up as the gladiator crashed its weapon into him, knocking his blade from his hand. Keith stumbled onto the ground, rolling to a stop on his side, wind knocked out of his breath, senses knocked out of his head.

Panting, he scrambled to get up, and found his thighs refusing, quivering. He bit down the natural response to moan when a sensation ghosted over his crotch. Then, realizing there was absolutely no one touching him _there_ , he yelped and squirmed away like that would do anything.

It didn’t.

The sensation ballooned, arousal swelling through Keith like some a bad allergic reaction. He cursed, very profoundly, and grabbed his crotch. Somehow that made it worse. He cried out, flinching, curling into himself as the feeling had his toes curling in his boots, his hair mating with sweat.

There was little comfort in seeing the gladiator conclude he was incapacitated, and shut down.

Keith screwed his eyes shut, sinking his teeth into his fist. His hips jerked on their own accord, spine tingling, face hot. He had nothing lucid in him to think maybe he’d fallen ill to an effect of the zapping.

He couldn’t call out for anyone.

Not when the source of his dismay was a tent in his pants. And it was finding release without his help, bringing him tighter into a ball, sinking teeth deeper to mute out the sounds that fell from him, sounds he had not heard himself make in so  long.

And just like that, with a shudder, his body found release without laying a hand on himself.

Keith gulped in air.

In the aftermath, his muscles melted, his breath falling heavy. He rolled onto his back, dazed, eyes bulging wide at the ceiling.

What the hell just happened?

He knew what had happened.

Why the hell had it just happened?

Several rooms away, the 'why' took form as Lance lazing in his own bed with a freshly sticky hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing in Lance's POV more, but I don't think the story will be as effective without Keith's. Also yes to Keith having always had slightly heightened senses like smell because Galra-ness?
> 
> As much as this will be Klance, I also want team bonding moments so hence a sprinkle of Pidge and Keith!
> 
> Thank you so much again for each of those beautiful comments, and thank you for the kudos already. It surprised me.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

Lance really didn't like distance.

In most cases, distance landed him on the bad end of things. Like a girl avoiding him, saying she needed space (which turned out to be the interior space of some other guy’s over-compensation sleek hovercraft bought from a trust fund, and in another case the space between a barrel-chested brute twice Lance’s girth).

Or the miles he had to put between himself and his family when he enrolled in Galaxy Garrison.

Then, that distance between his mom, his dad, grandma, grandpa, brother, sisters, the aunts and uncles and irritatingly wonderful cousins, had stretched from miles into galaxies away. It was the one distance Lance still felt when he went to sleep, and when he woke up. He could feel its length like a weight in his heart. 

So, yeah, Lance was a little surprised but what good could come from distance. The further the castle drifted from Comars, Lance felt like a hiccup was past him. A bump in the road growing tinier by the mile.

A mile further from the place that had messed with his head.

He could pretend last night it wasn’t Keith that had flashed behind his eyelids while Lance had his hands down his pants (look, Lance had been stressed, okay? And he’d found his release the way stress should be relieved). Keith shouldn't have played a factor in that though. Keith, with blown-wide eyes, his Comarsian robe torn open. 

It had been a mistake. It had barely even happened, and certainly not _willingly_ so--

Right. New topic.

Lance sighed, twirling the yellow flower between his fingers and rubbing his left jaw with his free hand. He must have been hella stressed last night, having felt his jaw tick badly like it had gotten too tense. It sure hadn't stop him from jerking off though. Maybe Coran’s follow-up examination on them would be a good thing. Confirm there was some kind of electrical residue that had screwed up his neurotransmitters or something.

That could be a thing, right?

 **“Guys,”** Pidge’s voice echoed into Lance’s room. **“I found something.”**

Lance startled, as if having been caught doing something wrong. He huffed up at the ceiling, trying to remember when he had enough down time to be alone with his thoughts. 

"Yeah, yeah, coming," Lance muttered, not that Pidge could hear his response.

He got up, dipping the flower back into a vile-thin vase Coran provided him. He rubbed at his chest as he studied the flower a moment longer. It was still vibrant and healthy, requiring very little care. Lance couldn’t bring himself to just get rid of the gift, regardless of the intentions. It seemed like a dick move to throw anything out.

Lance was most certainly not a dick. So while Coran had stored the remaining gifts away, the flower Lance kept.

Maybe it reminded him of his younger sister, who had an affinity for crowning the family with flowers on special events. Birthdays were the big one, but she had developed a penchant for using any holiday as an excuse to scavenge fields. Lance was typically the one she demanded as her escort and, let's be honest, he knew the best fields to pluck from.

Yeah, that’s why he kept the flower. It wasn’t any means to preserve what it meant.

A final primp of his hair, and Lance left the confines of his room, convinced that they were always being summoned right before a proper meal (particularly in Lance’s case because beauty is time and Paladins of Voltron had precious little of it). Lance shrugged his shoulders back, shaking off the tingles as much as he could as he descended into Pidge’s lair. He thought about what kind of breakfast Hunk might have made, and did not think about seeing Keith so soon.

As Lance expected, Pidge looked like they hadn’t slept in, oh, maybe a few days. 

“Morning,” Lance said. Even though it never was morning or night in space but, you know, habits. Kept them all a little sane.

“Hey,” Pidge said, gaze ticking over their laptop. “Where’s your hubby?”

Lance tensed. “Hilarious, Pidge.” He coughed it off and slipped in behind the Green Paladin.

“Have you slept at all?” Lance asked. Not that he felt any better. He’d slept, but it had been a restless sleep, which was at odds with his usual sleep. Sleep was the first arsenal in a beauty regimen, after all. Lance chalked it up to a rough night and expected better results the next time.

Pidge peered up at him. “Huh? Uh, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Some of us have actually been productive.”

“It takes work to look as good as I do,” Lance said. “I might be naturally handsome but stress can age a guy.”

Pidge snorted. “You hardly seemed stressed partying it last night.”

Lance was spared a response as the others, save Keith, trailed in. Hunk still had his apron, which proved he had been preparing a hearty breakfast.

“This won’t take long, will it?” asked Hunk. “I can’t leave the croissants in too long.”

“Croissants?” Pidge parroted.

“Well, as close to croissants as alien ingredients will make.”

Lance grinned at his friend. “You’re the best, Hunk.” Lance met Hunk’s smile, but struggled to keep it up the way Shiro, Allura, and Coran eyed him. Shiro’s was the kind of look that Lance found some comfort in, while Allura’s made it difficult to hold her gaze (it was reminiscent of the way Lance couldn’t hold his mom’s gaze when he’d done something wrong). Coran’s stare was just...Coran-intensive. 

“You look well,” Shiro told Lance.

“Of course I do."

Shiro didn’t look convinced, scanning the room. “Where’s Keith?”

Pidge’s smirk was evident in their tone, even if you couldn’t see it. “Ask his husband.”

Lance seriously considered banging his head against something. He decided against it for mourning anymore bruises on his skin, particularly his face.

As if on irritatingly perfect cue, Keith made his appearance. He paused at the doorway for a moment before stepping in. A funny sensation in Lance's chest made itself known, and began to settle with each step closer Keith took. Lance ignored it and noticed, even from this far off, that Keith looked a little shitty. A bruise mottled the left side of his jaw.

“Keith, you look pale,” Allura said. Less concerned and more accusingly. Beside her, Coran perked up.

“I’m fine,” Keith said. “Just trained too hard last night.”

Lance noted Keith wasn’t looking at him, which might have been good. Unconsciously, Lance touched his own jaw where he’d felt sore last night. Weird.

“What happened to your face?” he blurted out, at the same time Shiro asked a similar question.

Keith pointedly answered Shiro. “Gladiator.”

Pidge stopped typing at that, looking at Keith. “Since when has it gotten you that badly?”

“It didn't.”

"Then what's with the bruise?"

Lance felt a stare on him, and noticed Shiro and Coran studying the way he was touching his own jaw. Lance jerked his hand back down and shifted on his feet. “Are we here to talk about Keith getting his ass handed to him or about what Pidge found?” Not that Lance wanted to think on Keith’s ass. Definitely not. He ignored the annoyed sound Keith made.

Allura glanced at each of them, gaze lingering on Keith. She nodded toward Pidge. “Go ahead, Pidge. What did you want to show us?”

Lance breathed a little easier as Pidge pulled up a wide monitor for them to better see. Lance rubbed his chest and resisted the stupid need to look over at Keith.

“That’s a ship,” Hunk observed.

“It’s what our bad guy escaped in. It’s nondescript but the advances on it suggest it’s high-end stuff. Can't tell much beyond that. Yet." Pidge pointed. "What’s really interesting is that Coran found particles in the area. It took a lot of work to analyze when the particles were practically vanishing at a rate higher than--”

“Yeah, we get it, Pidge,” Lance said, clasping their shoulder. 

Pidge blinked out of their ramble. They cast Lance a frown but sighed. “I found out that their ship emits a unique reaction that matches the Comarsian runes. I think this guy used the Comarsian runes to enhance their ship. I think they prepared for a fast escape. I don’t know if they enhanced it to increase speed or defense, or who knows what, but when they warped, some of the, uh, ‘magic’ was left behind.”

Lance leaned over Pidge. “Like he painted it on and pieces of it chipped off?”

“Not necessarily. Maybe more like the chemical reaction from the actual runes caused particles left behind.”

“Does this have a point?” Keith’s voice, gravely and tired, sounded way too nice to Lance’s ears. 

“I tried explaining to you but you didn’t want to hear it back then,” Pidge pointed out. “Their runes are part inherent...science, magic, whatever you want to call it, but also made of chemical reactions.”

Keith grunted. “So the rune magic has chemical reactions. How is that any good to us? It helped the guy get away, you mean?”

Pidge sighed again, heavily. “It _means_ , I can probably track it. Within a respectable radius.”

Shiro’s eyebrows went up. “You mean like detect it?”

“Those runes are unique to Comars,” Pidge said, reaching into their pocket and producing a small stone engraved with spider-web thin runes. Even with the light of the castle and Pidge’s electronics, it held a steady glow. “And they don’t have a high level of trade. It’s not something you’ll easily find anywhere."

Lance scooted away from Pidge, wary of touching anymore of those things given his recent exposure to them.

“Great work, Pidge,” Shiro said. “If we can use the castle to keep a constant detector out for it, we might be able to find where he went.”

Allura nodded. “We can amplify it with the castle’s sensors.”

Pidge beamed, delighted at the stone in their palm. “It’s amazing. I’m still learning too,” they trailed off, looking up. “Hunk, you think if I give you the stats, you can build something into the castle to do just that?”

Hunk tensed, looking around. “Me? Oh. Well, yeah, if you got the properties, I can isolate what we need and build something easily enough.”

Lance went over and smacked Hunk heartedly on the back. “That guy won’t know what hit him when we find him.”

“Can I finish cooking first?” Hunk asked.

Lance was down for breakfast, was ready to peel after Hunk. Coran caught his arm before he could flee. In the Altean's other hand was Keith's arm. By the pout on Keith’s face (only it couldn't be a pout because Keith didn't pout), he’d been trying to escape Coran’s radar too.

“Where are you two running off two?” Coran asked. “Now is the perfect time to give you both an examination. Make sure you’re in tip top form.”

The freakishly strong hold of Coran’s arm promised neither of them would get far if they tried. Lance sighed his compliance, and obediently dragged his feet behind Coran.

They filtered out after Coran, leaving Shiro and Allura to discuss more stuff with Pidge that was probably a better alternative to letting Coran probe you. He and Keith matched pace behind the Altean only to prevent the other from being first, more a habit of competition than any real desire to be the first one poked . Lance could feel the tightness in his chest getting lighter at Keith’s closer proximity. Juxtaposed with the general awkward air clinging between them, Lance wasn’t sure what the hell he should be feeling.

Keith wasn’t much help either, casting little looks as if Lance was only looks and no-brain and didn’t know Keith was sneaking glances at him.

At least Coran jabbered all the way to the medical ward, ushering them to the lined white, smooth, tables that Lance hoped had never held corpses. Even now he had curiosities about the Alteans, but each time he thought to ask about it, he knew he’d be asking about a home and culture that no longer existed. It made it easier to keep his questions to himself.

Lance kept his attention on Coran as he was told to hop on the table and remove his jacket so he would be susceptible to Coran’s probing and prodding with devices Lance eyed warily. Keith looked worse off, like a recalcitrant kid who hated going to the doctors. It was another piece of Keith-data Lance filed away into his brain.

The probing could have been worse, far more invasive. Lance counted himself lucky they didn’t have to expose themselves at least. When Coran asked if Lance felt anything, he was reluctant to admit the tingly-ness had not ebbed. He didn’t know what else to call it.

Reluctantly, Keith admitted the same when it was his turn to answer. Coran jotted everything down, meticulous. Lance really didn’t want a record of any of this having happened. Coran did not agree with his statement, and seemed to even jot down Lance's comment to punctuate the point.

Lance tried to count himself lucky they weren't required to lose anymore clothing during the exam.

"Are we done?" Keith asked. It was probably the fifth time.

“Just about. Everything seems alright” Coran said as he fished out something from a compartment Lance didn't know had existed ticks ago, “but just as a precaution, I would like to have you two wear these.”

“What’s that?” Keith asked, eyeing Coran like he held a threat. Knowing Alteans, it very well could be, to a human anyway. Then Lance remembered Keith wasn't exactly human. Lance had to stop remembering stupid facts about Keith.

Coran beamed, displaying the patches. “These will monitor your vitals. It’ll adhere to your skin and will dissolve after a few vargas. You won’t even know it’s there.”

Lance leaned away from it. “Monitor? Like…”

“The basics, anything that might appear abnormal. It will detect any potential signs of infection as well. It should work well on you despite not being Alteans.” Coran studied Keith with a hum. "And being part-Galra, at that."

Lance had little in him to argue that point. “Did Alteans wear them all the time?”

Coran stared at him. “Why would they?”

“To...I don’t know, as a preventive measure or something?”

Coran laughed, but Lance didn’t get the joke. “Nonsense. Prolong usage creates a toxin in the body, after all.”

Oh. Right. As if Lance should have known that.

“I don’t see why we need it,” Keith said.

Coran turned to him. “I see several reasons why you do. Side effects do not always appear immediately. For all we know both of you will combust as a result of what happened to you.”

Keith’s eyes widened. Lance guessed as reckless as Keith could be, spontaneously combusting didn't sound good to him.

Keith crossed his arms and looked away. “Fine.”

Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Okay."

Coran attached it to Lance first, at the base of his neck. The consistency was like a band-aid, and then he felt nothing at all. When he tried to pick at it, Coran smacked his hand away.

When it was Keith’s turn, Lance knew he was ogling. Keith’s profile faced him, the smooth lines of his face accentuated by the tendrils of hair that fell around his cheeks and discolored jaw. With Coran adhering the patch to the same place, Keith had to lift the stupid part of his mullet out of the way. Why the motion of lifting his hand, grabbing clumps of his hair and lifting it aside looked hot was beyond Lance.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. He hoped that wasn’t caught on the patch’s radar.

Lance was disappointed Coran didn't find anything wrong with his brain waves. 

Coran left them then, and Lance should have just hurried on out of there. Keith should have too, should have said he had to train some more or do whatever other Keith-like thing he did. Instead, their gazes found each other. Lance’s heart fluttered. Keith looked tense. Well, tenser than what was typical for Keith. Not that Lance had notes on the variety of his general tension.

“Hey,” Lance said.

“Hey.”

Okay. That was progress, Lance figured. “I guess we won’t combust. Hopefully.”

Keith didn’t look convinced. There was something off about him in the way he eschewed Lance’s eyes, the way he fidgeted on the exam table. Even with the lack of sleep pulling at his skin, he looked...not bad.

“You okay there, Keith?"

Keith opened his mouth, then swallowed. He stewed in silence for a moment while Lance held his breath as long as he could. Finally, Keith shook his head and rubbed his neck. “Last night..."

Lance refused to breathe. Last night? There was no way...

Keith shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Nothing." Lance could breathe again. "Um, I was just...thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

Keith shot him a hard look. “I was thinking,” he went on, “that I kind of overreacted yesterday.”

“No shit.”

Keith glared.

Lance grinned back. He didn’t know why Keith’s confession elevated his mood. Their arguments were a familiarity between them, but lately there was more triumph in seeing Keith’s posture lax around him instead of bunched up in anger-induced tension.

“I think I was being,” Keith considered his words, and it was kind of cute how he did it but again Lance did not associate Keith and cute together. “An asshat."

The admission surprised Lance. So much so that he burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious!” Lance stopped laughing, but felt the remnants of it warming him. He could swear Keith looked lighter in the shoulders too. “Keith, as much as it almost pains me to say this, you’re not an asshat.”

Keith looked taken aback at the assurance. It wiped the tension free from his face, showing how young Keith really could look were his brows not pinched so much. Yeah. Definitely better.

“Thanks,” Keith said after a while.

Lance didn’t think an apology could make him feel flustered. It totally did. He hopped off the table and scratched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well, don’t mention it.”

They both got up at the same time, almost bumping into each other in the process. There was that awkward shuffle of where to put their limbs until Lance had the better sense to side step away from Keith altogether with a cough.

Why didn’t he hurry the hell out of there? Didn’t he have better things to do than watch Keith’s expression. Sure as hell he did. Yet there his feet remained. Somehow, Lance’s chest felt lighter now, the funny sensation that had been itching at him almost nonexistent.

“How’s your hip?” Keith asked.

Lance didn’t understand at first. When he did, he felt the need to look away and cough again. He found staring at Keith’s boots a little easier. “Oh, yeah. It’s...fine?”

“Oh.”

Lance swore Keith’s boots scooted closer to him.

“Yeah.”

“That’s good."

"...How’s that jaw of yours?”

“Fine.”

A little closer.

Lance’s skin tickled as if a breeze passed through. Only it was warm and comforting, and smelled of Keith. His eyes jumped up, and Keith was a lot closer now, making Lance’s earlier side-shuffle moot. Keith’s hand was in mid-air. Coran's exam couldn't have been thorough, because there was something beyond Lance's body pulling him closer to Keith's body.

Holy shit was Keith about to touch his face? Keith was an impulsive creature, but even this surpassed Lance’s assumptions. Worse, a powerful need bubbled under his muscles, aching him to reach out and touch Keith’s hand, skin to skin.

Lance sucked in a deep breath. “What...are you doing?”

Keith’s eyes were a little glazed. At Lance’s question, he blinked quickly and looked at his own hand, like he had no clue what his hand was up to. Lance shared the sentiment.

Keith never got the chance to answer.

Allura’s voice boomed through the intercom.

**“Paladins! We have a situation.”**

The sheer power of her voice forced them apart. 

“Jesus, do we ever get a break?” Lance asked the question but was already sprinting out with Keith. They kept pace with each other, but Lance felt they ran closer together than they normally did. He didn't let himself the luxury of thinking what would have happened back there in the medical ward had they not been interrupted.

He and Keith burst into the control room at the same time. “Allura, what’s going on?”

The others were already there, studying the scene beyond the castle.

Allura didn’t turn to face them. “We received a distress call at the edge of this galaxy.”

The castle zoomed in on the distant ships.

Hunk’s moan carried Lance’s feelings about the whole thing. Of course there would be Galra. Not because the universe was still infested with them even after Zarkon’s defeat, but because they had just completed a mission and were fated to not get breaks.

And those were indeed Galra ships. Team Voltron had yet to encounter a Galra ship that did not have Galra in it. There was an almost nonexistent rate of mercs or rebels taking over a Galra ship, and an even lower rate of those crazy enough to consider it.

“Wait, the distress signal came from the edge of the galaxy?” Pidge asked. “We’re still a ways from there.”

Allura did not budge. “Exactly.”

“They’re not attacking,” Shiro said. Even if it was Shiro saying it, Lance didn’t feel assured. If anything, Shiro’s tone reflected what everyone felt: the wrongness.

“How long have they been there?” Pidge asked.

“We don’t know. Our sensors detected the ships mere ticks ago as we made our direction toward the distress call,” Allura said. “They have been at a standstill since they spotted us.”

Hunk shifted closer to Lance. “So there’s a distress call at the edge of the galaxy, but there are Galra right here instead. What the heck are they doing out here?”

“Can’t be good,” Pidge said, bringing up their own screens to examine. “The galaxy we’re currently in is not yet conquered by the Galra. The edge of the galaxy, however, has had more Galra presence.”

“Could be scouting for potential new planets. It’s a tiny fleet of them,” Keith said. “We should meet them with our lions.”

“They haven’t attacked,” Shiro said. “Is it possible they’re with the Marmora?”

Lance squinted at the ships, dubious. The Marmora were currently on a quiet frequency as they dug through the remnants of Zarkon’s defeat, learning the state of the Galra Empire. Somehow, Lance doubted this had anything to do with the Marmora.

“Zarkon’s men do not scout. They pillage.” Allura held her head high, but Lance caught the tension in her hands. “Coran, any response?”

“No, Princess. They are not accepting our attempt to hail them.”

Lance waited with everyone, holding onto a hope that this won’t go the way he thought it would.

Allura tried to reach them anyway, because there was little chance either of them drifting along as if nothing had happened. Lance had to give her credit. Were this pre-Marmora and pre-Galra Keith, Allura might have been more inclined to go along with Keith's plan of direct confrontation.

“I have a bad feeling,” Hunk said, which sucked. Hunk’s bad feelings were never unfounded. And usually right. All that mattered was the timing. Sometimes the results came late, sometimes early.

Maybe the Galra ships would retreat from what crevice in space they’d been spit out of.

To everyone's disbelief, they did. They rotated away and took off before Lance could process they weren't being attacked.

Lance couldn’t quite believe it. He had to garner everyone’s expressions to make sure he hadn’t seen that. Everyone wore their respective levels of shock in their posture and faces. Keith’s eyes were more narrowed than usual, his pretty eyes flashing to Lance at being stared at.

“We should follow them,” Keith said.

At his words, everyone breathed again. Shiro shook his head, gesturing to Allura. “The distress call. Is it still there?”

“Yes.”

“Suit up, then,” Shiro told them. “We have people that need our help.”

They broke off toward their lions on the command. Lance lost sight of Keith, and the itch in his chest returned.

He suited up and strapped into Blue in record time, giving her a pat as she purred mentally at his return.

“Missed you too,” he told her. She calmed his nerves, giving him a kind of once-over as if knowing what had happened to him back on Comars. “I’m fine, girl. Really.”

Lance could swear she snorted inside his head.

He felt the vibrations of the first attack, and knew they were up. No rest for the weary, after all.

The Galra rained an assault on the castle, the rattling of the ship underlined by Allura and Shiro’s orders. Lance’s fingers danced over buttons, windows of his teammates appearing in his peripheral as they engaged in combat. Keith, being Keith, was on sight first, tearing into a Galra ship.

There was a fleet of them, way bigger than the tiny flock they’d run into on their way here but had left a wary impression on Lance. The Galra in front of him were familiar in combat, relentless in their pursuit, as if spirited on by Zarkon’s ghost to capture the lions and burn down the castle. So unlike the ships they had ran into and then had just...left.

The merchant ships the Galra had been pirating took the opening to flee, not equipped for a fight. Lance had to wonder what kind of space merchants risked crossing a Galra-heavy region. He dove Blue down, and ranged his attacks from afar as Red took the front, joined by the Black Lion soon after. Hissing, Lance tore out of the way at a near-surprise attack took Blue’s eye out.

Blue froze an attack in mid-space before it struck Hunk and his lion.

“Thanks, Lance!” Hunk said, returning the favor by mashing into its jaw the tail end of a ship aiming for Blue.

“There’s too many for us to pick at separately,” Pidge shouted.

Lance grimaced at the hive of ships that beelined for the castle. “Shit, they’re going after the castle now!”

“Everyone, pull back into tighter formation!” Shiro ordered. “We need to form Voltron.”

Lance began to comply when a sudden, nerve burning sensation tore through his right side. He gasped, straightening, eyes darting around on instinct. Blue registered no damage.

“What was that?” he whispered, mostly to her, partly to himself.

Then he heard Hunk’s shout: “Keith!”

Blue zeroed her targeting system on Red, who was recovering from a blow. The largest of the ships spotted Keith and unleashed a merciless attack. A blow caught Red in the side. Lance heard Keith cry out.

But Lance cried out too. He realized it a pulse too late, the feeling of being jerked forward violently, muscles strained. Lance’s heart hammered as if he was in the thick of an attack, sweat beading on his skin.

“What the hell?” He panted.

The next blow came from Red. She barreled into the ship with fire hot on her mechanical breath, inducing a self-inflicted injury along the way. Keith groaned at the impact the same moment Lance winced, feeling his pulse crashing against his temples.

And because Keith was Keith, he was about to do it again.

Lance, being Lance, was not the same kind of impulsive. Sure, he did things on a whim, but always with a general sense of what was to come of it and how to go about it. You didn’t sneak out of the Garrison on impulse alone. Not successfully, anyway.

So it surprised mostly himself, and probably the others, when he went launched Blue forward into the fray. Lance barely heard Shiro’s shouts over the roar of his own blood. One of the Galra ships detected his presence and turned. Blue wasn’t as fast as Red, but she was his girl, and she knew exactly what to do with the slightest mental nudge.

Blue pivoted down at the last moment and exploded her ice into the underbelly of the ship. Keith took the opening and shot at it. The ship caved, faster than Lance expected, faster than Blue could maneuver out of the way. A chunk of the metal chipped her, spinning her into space and rattling Lance in his seat, the back of his head knocked hard.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Lance struggled to un-dizzify himself and all of space. He rubbed his helmet tentatively, blinking at the screens of his teammates. Hunk was shouting his name. He barely heard it, catching Keith hissing and rubbing his own head.

Their eyes met.

Lance stopped rubbing his head. Keith acted like he had no reason to be doing the same thing.

“Guys!”

Lance screwed his eyes tight, opening them quickly. They floated in the eye of the battle, but his mind was collecting pieces of a puzzle that he didn’t want solved. Lance forced the realization down before it could crest and spark a panic attack.

“We’re fine,” he told the others, knowing deep down they were _not_ fine. He focused on the castle. “We need to help Allura and Coran!”

The rest of the team barreled down in tight formation, Hunk serving as a literal tank for any Galra thwarting their reunion.

They formed Voltron.

In the end, the Galra forces broke apart, what ships not gutted making sputtering retreats.

Lance breathed heavily, watching them go, before his eyes glanced at Keith on the screen. The Red Paladin was staring at him, clutching his chest. Lance followed his line of sight and realized he was doing the exact same thing.

He dropped his hand and clutched Blue’s control panels.

“Everyone alright?” Shiro asked. His voice came out a little breathless. Not usually a good indicator for how the rest of the team fared.

Lance’s arms were quivering, the echo of pain still radiating through him. But if it was the pain that made him shake, or the impending reality of what had happened, he wasn’t sure. Not yet.

He breathed and forced a smile on his face. “Always. Another day saved.”

Shiro chuckled. “No one’s hurt then?”

Lance leaned back in the seat, letting Shiro’s words wash over him. Some kind of normalcy that balanced out the chaos brewing in his mind.

Lance was hurt. Damage-less, but hurting.

“Allura?” Hunk asked.

The adrenaline was keeping his muscles tight, his heart pounding.

Allura's face popped up. Lance noticed the strain around her eyes. “We're alright, but I’m afraid the castle took substantial damage. We’ll need to make restock to make repairs.”

Lance figured as much. “The merchants?”

“They’re unhurt,” Coran answered. “They’re docking a few vargas from here at a planet that should cater to our need for supplies. It should be a good spot for us.”

“Will the ship make it there?” Pidge asked

“If we can avoid another battle,” Allura said, face grim.

“Guess we take the non-Galra plagued path,” Lance said. He threw the comment out there for liveliness, while his mind was somewhere else. Somewhere close. He peered at Keith on the screen. Keith was still watching him.

Lance couldn’t say he remembered much of the conversation as they unhinged from one another and returned to the castle. Pidge and Hunk were first to disembark and no doubt had their hands full making sure the castle got to its destination.

Lance practically jumped out of Blue the moment she landed, tearing off his helmet and pieces of his suit as he ran. He rushed down her corridor, feeling the tension in his springs loosen as, it turned out, Keith met him halfway in Blue's corridor.

They stumbled to a halt, mere feet away, breaths still hitched.

Keith’s eyes were wide. His hair was a fluff of a mess, a new bruise dotting his face, hands bare as if he’d been suffocating under his suit and armor. He didn’t say anything.

Lance stared back. He didn’t say anything.

Instead, he raised his arm. Keith tilted his head, suspicion widening his eyes more.

Lance pinched his own skin through the fabric of his suit, _hard._

Keith yelped immediately and clapped his hand down left arm, rubbing the spot Lance had not touched. Or rather, he had, through very unconventional means.

Well, shit on some shit.

The pain that hit Keith ebbed, or maybe the shock of the implications finally hit him harder. Keith found his eyes again, those eyes bulging. Lance would have found it hilarious how big they’d gotten, if he weren’t on the bad end of that joke himself.

“The hell,” Lance breathed at the same time Keith said, “No way.”

Keith’s mouth opened again.

“Don’t,” Lance warned.

“The bond,” Keith said. It was all he had to say. Hell, he didn’t even have to say it. The truth had long since pierced through Lance’s body the moment he’d been shocked by a set of runes.

Lance’s eyes went big. “ _Shit_ _!_ ”

Keith looked pale. For someone who looked about to pass out, Keith’s stare was severe. Then, without preamble, he reached forward.

Lance staggered back out of reach. It had taken incredible will to not close the distance. Keith knew it too, because his eyes said he felt the sensation too. A tangible discomfort the farther they stepped apart.

Keith grit his jaw and seized his hand. This time, Lance didn’t stop him.

Lance couldn’t articulate the sensation that bloomed from the single skin-to-skin contact. It was like something detonating, but in slow-mo, every particle of its explosion felt by Lance as it consumed him. It was dizzying. It was electrifying, and calming.

It felt _intimate_.

And in that crazy, crazy tick, he saw the pleasure in Keith’s expression as well, could have sworn he felt exactly what Keith was feeling, and the rush of emotions startled Lance enough to yank his hand back and cradle it to his chest.

They held eyes for the longest time. The longest time Lance had ever looked at anyone.

When he exhaled, it was a pathetic stutter.

“Oh, God,” Lance squeaked.

They were screwed.

Keith couldn’t say anything. Lance had to find his voice, had to be the cool headed voice of reason he was.

But all he could blurt out was, “We tell no one."

Because this was real (whatever _this_ even was, but it was dangerous and not a fabrication of Lance’s still over-zapped mind). He’d felt it in battle as much as Keith felt it now, felt it in his bones, his skin, and into the deepest recesses of him that had no proper label, and there was little chance they could pretend it was not what they thought it was.

All this time, Lance had plenty reason to not give distance the benefit of the doubt, to will it away if he could. In a way, it had, in all the wrong ways.

It had shrunk itself to a palpable bond between himself and Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so so much for the feedback. So many of the comments made me laugh and every one of them kept me writing. I am sorry I don't update as fast as I like, but finally hoping to get more of the Klancey moments starting next chapter!
> 
> ❤


End file.
